A Long Road
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: to somewhere.
1. Chapter 1

**_:) xxx_**

* * *

Syed turned his case, the wheels making a perfect circle in the yellow earth, and leaned it against the telegraph pole. Squinting in the sunlight, he took in the rocky scenery, gazing out to the line of mountains shimmering on the horizon, and, despite the frisson of joy that the stark beauty of his surroundings moved in him, wrinkled his nose.

"Is it too late to hide?"

Dropping the rucksack beside the case with a grunt, Christian placed his hands on the top of his buttocks and stretched his muscles with a grimace of pain.

"Hop on my shoulders and we'll shimmy behind the pole, no one will ever notice…. Please tell me you're not going to want to do a runner and I'm going to have to lug this bugger all the way back to that garage? That bloke in the dungarees gave me the creeps. The hills have eyes! What's up?"

"Oh nothing."

"Sy." Christian raised one eyebrow, tipped the brim of his cowboy hat low over his forehead and regarded Syed sternly, making him laugh.

"Okay, okay! Just had a wobble. We've had such a brilliant time. I wish we could have stayed there, just you and me. New York was awesome."

"Yeah, it was…"

In a brief and comfortable mutual silence, they both remembered the past fortnight. Memories of trudging through the snowy streets, arm in arm, drinking hot chocolate in Central Park. Watching art house movie and feeling as if they were in one. Dancing in a small, achingly trendy club, until a mutual longing forced them to leave, rushing through the crowds to their cheap hotel room, to make slow, tender love for hours. Lying together afterwards, bodies wrapped around each other, bathed in the neon glow of the advertising signs beyond their window, listening to the wail of passing sirens, the drone of the traffic and the beat of their hearts.

"…Fucking freezing though. At least it's a bit warmer here." Smiling, Christian broke the spell and gave Syed's arm a reassuring nudge with his own. "You hear that creaking noise?"

"Is it your knees?"

"No it isn't, git. It's our bubble expanding to let other people in. We're going to have a ball."

Trying to seem convinced, Syed nodded and perched on top of the case, pushing his feet out in front of him.

"We always do."

"Yes we do, and don't you forget it. Though I don't know why matey wanted to meet us out here in the middle of nowhere, a bar in San Francisco would have been a damn sight more convenient. Oh! NOW I see. Here come Dastardly and Muttley, making an entrance…"

Christian reached for Syed's hand and pulled him upright. He pointed along the long road. It dipped and rose, snaking into the distance, flanked by the stark avenue of telegraph poles, joined forever by a lace of wires, seeming to stretch to infinity. Following the line of Christian's finger, Syed traced the approach of a vintage red convertible, watching as it roared towards them at terrifying speed, stirring billows of dust in its wake.

The car screeched to a halt, tyres crunching on the rough verge, forcing Christian and Syed to step back, avoiding the spray of stones that nearly peppered them. One hand on the wheel, his elbow resting on the edge of the door, Michael beamed with delight.

"Hurrah! I was worried you'd change your mind. You both look dazzlingly fit. Cool hat, Christian. You'll give Ror an aneurysm, he loves a cowboy. It's so good to see you!"

He vaulted out of his seat with ease and grabbed them both into a crushing hug.

"Looking good yourself! " Christian extricated himself and tugged at the dark growth on Michael's chin. "That's a big old beard!"

"I'm sick of it. Had to grow it for a shoot. Please tell me you'll let me use your trimmer. Someone forgot to bring mine…"

Rory, still in the passenger seat, trying to smooth his tousled hair and painlessly extricate strands of it from the hinges of his glasses, shrugged his shoulders.

"Hello. I'm someone, who might have forgotten it accidentally on purpose. As well as loving a cowboy, very nice hat Christian, I also love a salty sea dog."

To Syed's relief, Michael stopped raining kisses on his cheek, like an over excited puppy, to grumble a response,

"Tough. It's going. You blew it when you said I looked like Captain Haddock."

Syed laughed at the unkind comparison and waved a greeting.

"Hey Rory. Is it tickling your fancy?"

"His fancy can do one, no more pirate fun for him. He doesn't have to wear the beast. I keep getting stuff in it." Michael pouted, looking pleadingly at Christian for support.

"Stuff?" Christian's mouth drooped in mock compassion, and Michael winked, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Mmm. Stuff. How are you? Your Mum and Dad all right, Christian? How was New York?"

"They're fine, thanks, bellyaching about the weather, but secretly pleased to be home." Christian gently touched the soft nape of Syed's neck. "And New York was fantastic. Did you have a good Christmas and New Year?"

"Eventually! I nearly spent Christmas day at Beijing airport. Had to deploy an oil slick of charm to get a flight home."

"Such an effort for him…" Rory said dryly.

Christian barked with amusement and strolled over to the convertible, running his finger along the shining chrome appreciatively.

"Isn't it! Nice wheels. You finally traded in the green monstrosity, then, Michael?"

"How very dare you! Though I might, for this… Nah, this is only borrowed. Got to drop it off at the next town."

Puzzled, Syed frowned.

"What are we going to do a road trip in then? Or have we got to walk to Vegas?"

A horn blasted, making him jump in alarm and clutch his chest. The honking noise was followed swiftly by an unmistakeable shriek. Rory rolled his eyes and slumped down into the cream leather seat, muttering, "oh god" under his breath and Christian clapped in delight.

"Fuck me; it's Godzilla, spleen of the desert!"

The Winnebago, a sleek, huge, aluminium bullet, growled ever nearer, Steve grinning broadly through the windscreen, while Sam hung precariously out of the open window, holding a lilac scarf high in the air, letting it ripple and flap in the breeze, yelling obscenities at the top of his voice.

Syed stood beside Christian and slipped his arm around his waist, hissing through a rictus grin,

"I told you we should have hidden…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Whoa! Mmmf…" Sam jumped onto Christian, wrapping his legs around his waist, planting a kiss full on his lips and sending him staggering backwards.

"Darling!" Sliding to the ground, Sam turned to Syed, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. Suspecting he was about to receive the same treatment, Syed winced and braced himself for the onslaught. Instead, Sam put his hands on his hips and slowly shook his head.

"Well, well, well." He said. "Who would have thought it…?"

Syed's heart sank, dreading the inevitable barrage of barbed teasing. He flicked a panicked glance at Christian and his discomfort pulsed through the group like the electricity that throbbed along the telegraph wires above them. Christian sent a wave of soothing love with a look and Steve groaned. Lounging against the car door, idly studying his fingernails, Michael sensed the sudden change in atmosphere, saw Rory indicate, with a frown and a grim downturn of his mouth, that he should do something, and clapped his hands loudly.

"Sam! Let me show you…." He paused, struggling for inspiration, and then beamed brightly, pleased with himself at selecting an excellent diversionary tactic. "…My cock!"

Delighted, Sam rushed Michael to the Winnebago, before he could change his mind, shoving him up the steps with unseemly haste.

Steve slapped Syed on the shoulder.

"Take no notice of him. He's a little shit. I'll have a word."

Grateful, Syed ignored the pain from the force of Steve's affectionate touch and smiled.

"Thank you… But Rory, I'm so sorry! Michael's not really going to, is he?"

"Oh, probably." Rory responded, unconcerned. "I'm surprised Sam hasn't seen it already. Most people have. There are a couple of pictures on the internet. He says they're faked. Mind you, one of them looks awfully familiar. You can google it, if you're that fussed."

"Yes." Steve agreed, then flushed under his tan and scuffed at the earth with the toe of his boot.

"Yeah. Sam's probably the last person on the planet not to have seen it." Syed chuckled.

"Hang on." Christian tweaked a strand of Syed's hair and scowled. "When have you seen it? I haven't seen it."

Touched by Christian's little show of jealousy, Syed stroked his cheek, running his finger over the stubble.

"In the showers at school, numpty."

With an almost imperceptible blink of dark brown eyes, Rory sighed and pressed at the centre of his glasses, repositioning them onto the bridge of his nose.

"By the end of this trip, you'll be sick of the sight of it, Christian. Aversion to clothes, that boy. And no shame. It's very nice, though. I think." He opened the car door, stepped out and stretched with an audible clicking of bones. "Would anyone like a drink? The grand reveal is finished, here they come."

"Sam. No. You are four million types of wrong. Waxing your pubes doesn't make it look bigger; it makes it look stupid, like a porny bag full of turkey giblets. And at no point did I say you could touch it. Who wants a tour of the beast? Please note I am no longer talking about my knob." Michael gestured towards the sleek, shining, Winnebago with pride and ushered them all inside.

"Loads of food and drink…." Michael slammed the fridge door shut and opened a cupboard. "Tons of protein shakes…"

"Excellent!" Christian's eyes lit up. "I seriously need to get back in shape." He flexed his arm, the bicep curling, belying the statement and Syed felt his mouth fill with saliva. He turned away, hoping no one had noticed that he'd gone a little faint.

"Fuck off man! With those guns?" Steve bellowed in disbelief.

"Hmm. Too much good living lately. You though, you're like Conan the Barbarian!"

Christian patted Steve's bulging chest, muscles clearly visible through his tight yellow tee shirt.

"Cheers. I'd like to be a bit more ripped." Sam studied the flesh revealed by Michael's low slung jeans and open shirt with a professional eye. "You've got some abs and cum gutters on you, Michael. What have you been doing?"

"MMA mostly. Wish I could get as much mass as you two."

"No." Steve shook his head. "Wouldn't suit you. We could maybe work on getting you a touch more bulk on your deltoids…."

As Michael happily allowed Steve and Christian to prod and poke him, Syed made himself comfortable on the long padded seat that ran beneath the window, sinking against the rainbow coloured cushions. Rory slipped beside him and muttered,

"More definition than he gets from the Mixed Manly Activities? How will I cope? You look well, Syed. Joining in with the current orgy of testosterone, do you work out?"

"Me? I've got my own rather wonderful personal trainer, so I do a bit. I like to run. Me and Christian used to jog along the beach most days…" A wave of nostalgia for the house on the shore washed over him and he had to give himself a little mental shake. "How about you? Do you do martial arts with Michael?"

Pensively twitching at the hem of his long beige shorts, revealing a knobbly knee, Rory answered,

"What an awful thought! He leaves at some ungodly hour in the morning. Comes home sweaty and full of beans, which is fun. I cycle a lot, and try to keep up with Michael's energy, but honestly, I really can't be arsed. I'd rather eat a meringue and have a nap."

"God, you lot accuse me of being vain! Listen to yourselves, banging on!"

Petulantly, Sam flung himself between Syed and Rory, forcing them apart and put his hand on Syed's knee. "You'll always be divine, sweetheart. That mouth, those eyes, your skin. Delicious!"

"Ha! The man speaks truth." Christian lifted Sam's hand away. "Keep your manicured mitts off. He's mine. Where are the beds in this thing, Michael?"

"There's a double through there…" Michael pointed towards a blonde wood panel at the far end. "….Underneath our partner's delicious bottoms, a thing slides out. That sounds wrong, I mean the thing they're sitting on slides out. Above us, there are two bunks. Or, if you fancy, we've got a couple of tents. A glamping type one and an old fashioned canvas effort."

Syed gazed up at Christian and smiled, pupils widening as a delicious fantasy flooded into his mind.

"We'll take the canvas one." He said firmly.

"Me and Ste are having the double." Sam cut in. "I'm not fucking camping."

"Ha!" Christian slapped his thighs and cackled with laughter. "Breaking the habit of a lifetime then?"

"Ha ha! We'll hold you to that Sam. You have to be butch the whole trip. Bog's along there, there's a shower, telly, music, though that seems to be stuck on a G-A-Y soundtrack loop… So, it's a luxury hotel on wheels!" Michael studied their faces, seeking approval.

"I'm not sure sharing a toilet with Steve and his dodgy bowels could ever be classed as luxurious."

"Christian!" Syed admonished. "It's lovely, Michael. Thank you for organising this."

"Oh not me totally. I sorted the transport. Nothing to do with the nitty gritty itinerary malarkey."

"Was that you Rory?" Syed asked.

Michael spluttered.

"Him? He can't organise a matching pair of socks, bless his odd cotton ones!"

"Actually." Sam jutted out his jaw and smoothed the sides of his short brown hair. "It was me. And before you all start with the shock horror whinging, I would like to point out that I run a successful business, both online and off. I also sort out Steve's appointments and accounts, am well versed in logistics, and am generally fabulous. So you can all kiss my peachy, sensational ass, get down on your knees, and worship me. Especially Syed and Michael. Please. Together, if you like. I'm not too proud to beg." With a flick of his head, he slumped back, slyly fondling Syed's thigh as he did so.

"Sam! Darling! We never doubted you. What's the plan?"

Christian pulled Syed up, rescuing him from Sam's groping, protecting him in an embrace.

"I'll let you have a copy of the spreadsheet. Tonight we're booked into a motel in the next town, because I'm shattered from getting here and that shower looks suspect."

"Bates motel." Michael fished in the pocket of his jeans and dangled a key tantalisingly in the air. "I've got to drop the car off tomorrow. So…." He grinned, looking from Christian to Syed. "Why don't you two take it for a spin?"

Eagerly, Christian stepped forward, but Michael bowled the key overarm to Syed.

"Excellent!" Sam quickly tied his lilac scarf around his head, knotting it under his chin. "I'll come too!"

Michael wrestled a protesting Sam down, sweetening the bitter pill by sitting firmly on his lap.

"No you don't. It's Thelma and Louise, not Thelma, Louise and Princess Anne. Wait for us on the edge of civilisation. Enjoy!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**So sorry for the wait! :) xxx**_

* * *

"Oh no you don't! Ha! Christian! Get off!"

Syed dodged away from Christian's groping hands, running to the other side of the car, using it as protection. He triumphantly shook the key and crowed,

"Who did he give this to? You? I don't think so! I think you'll find it was little old me."

He opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat, smiling smugly as he rested his hands on the steering wheel, caressing the leather cover. Christian slumped sulkily beside him, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah, but he meant to throw them to me. He's a rubbish bowler."

"A fair few silver cups in the school trophy cabinet, engraved with his name, tell a different story! You'd better take your hat off, or you'll lose it. It's going to be fast. It's going to be furious."

"Hmm." Grumpily stowing his hat between his feet, Christian ran his fingers through his short hair and scowled. "Slow and tedious. When was the last time you drove? Have you ever driven on the right?"

Slipping the key into the ignition, Syed turned it, listening to the purr of the engine with delight.

"You hardly ever let me, darling. And I once drove an X type Jag to Paris for a business meeting."

Syed blithely omitted the fact that he had been a passenger for most of the journey, trusted only to take a brief turn around a car park. He took his sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on.

"What? A pedal one? Do you know where you're going? There's no Satnav."

"Thank fuck for that!" Syed leaned across, kissed Christian on the mouth, figuring it was the best way he knew to stop him moaning, and then pressed his foot on the accelerator.

"Ha! Sy!" Christian gripped Syed's knee as the car swerved onto the road. "We're going too fast!"

"Nope!" Syed shouted, hair whipping from his face, teeth white in a wide grin, "We're not going fast enough!"

Eventually, signs of habitation started to appear and Syed reluctantly slowed down. Turning off the radio, silencing the blast from the rock music station, he asked,

"Where shall we stop and wait for them?"

"I don't ever want to stop." Christian sighed. "I seem to have a raging hard on. Wonder where the motel is? I need to have you."

"Really? Yay! I'll pull in here and give them a ring…." He swerved into the forecourt of a small bar, set back from the road, announcing itself to belong to Mal on a hand painted wooden board.

"Bollard!" Christian yelled, grabbing onto the dashboard.

"Same to you. I am aware of the bollard. Keep your wig on." Syed lied, cautiously backing the car into a space beside a rusty pickup truck. Turning of the engine, he took off his sunglasses and squinted at his phone.

"Bollocks. No signal."

"I'm not surprised." Christian flicked a fingernail against the red plastic case. "You've had that thing for about a billion years. Don't know why you didn't upgrade when I did."

Syed cradled the phone, heart melting with fondness.

"It reminds me of us."

"Aw, Sy! You could always keep it. I've kept mine somewhere…" Christian touched the screen of his sleek new mobile and laughed hollowly. "Isn't technology marvellous, no signal for me either." He glanced towards the low stone building and licked his lips. "Might as well get a drink while we wait, I fancy a beer."

"The piano player will probably stop when we walk in." Syed frowned at the uninviting façade, depressed by the sight of sad marigolds, wilting in a cracked earthenware pot by the entrance.

"Ha! And tumbleweed will blow past to the sound of a tolling bell… We'll just have to bring the party." Christian flipped his cowboy hat onto his head and crooked his elbow. Linking arms, Syed grinned.

"Okay. What's the worst they can do? Shoot us?"

The other few occupants of the bar seemed neither inclined to party, or thankfully, shoot them. A thin young man, leaning against a slot machine, his face livid with a shaving rash, was the sole person to pay them any attention, nodding a brief acknowledgement. A bored girl with a full sleeve of tattoos, managed to stop her conversation with someone, hidden away in a back room, long enough to fetch Christian a bottle of beer and a tall glass of lemonade, taking his money with a swift disinterested smile.

Syed found a seat by the window. Sitting cautiously, he worriedly studied the stuffed boar's head on the wall behind him.

"Thanks…" He took the glass from Christian and jabbed his thumb upwards. "Do you think there's any likelihood of that falling down?"

"Brained by a boar!" Christian giggled and sat opposite him, resting his elbows on the table. "It's ceilings you have to be careful of, with your track record. Sy…" He took a swig of beer and reached to take Syed's fingers, his own, cold from the bottle, warming quickly at the touch of Syed's flesh. "….Speaking of boars, don't let Sam be one, a b.o.r.e that is. Tell him to fuck off if he gets on your tits."

Syed shrugged, top lip curling briefly.

"Oh I don't mind. I know what he's like…" Syed glanced around the bar; giving Christian's fingers a squeeze before he slowly moved his own away. "I worry he might upset you."

"Ha! Fuck no. I've had years of him. He just cracks me up."

"Yeah. It's a bit relentless though. Does he ever talk about anything apart from sex?"

"Not much. Celebrities, other people… Star Trek maybe. I think he likes talking about it more than doing it, from some of the things Steve's told me. You should call his bluff and pretend to come on to him, for a laugh. What he really likes is watching. Offer to let him, see if he spontaneously combusts."

Shuddering, Syed grimaced, face filled with disgust.

"Over my dead body! Eww, except he probably would. My brain!" He clutched his head. "It's polluted with pictures that can't be unimagined!"

A different vision assaulted Christian, rising suddenly and unbidden, of a future without Syed. Bereft and desolate, he felt a physical pain; as if a talon, sharp as a scalpel, had raked along his gut. He urgently sought the comfort of Syed's eyes, his own prickling with tears.

"Don't ever die." He said quietly.

"I'll do my best. Hey! Clarkey! What's up? Silly."

Under the table, he pressed his leg close against Christian's, attempting to assuage his surprising burst of sorrow with the touch of his body, wishing he could override his innate reluctance to kiss away his distress in full view of strangers. "Come on. Let's go outside…"

"Sorry." Christian sniffed and smiled. "I'm all right. Just being an arse. Oh look." He nodded towards the window. Outside, pulled up at a green traffic light, cars hooting behind it, the Winnebago blocked the road. They watched in amusement as Michael, leaning out to find them, kept having to turn and slap at Sam, trying to stop his concerted assault on his waistband as he attempted to pull down his jeans. Spotting them, he began to gesticulate wildly, waving and pointing to the right.

"I think they want us to follow. Shall we bother?"

Syed laughed and screwed up his face, pretending to concentrate hard.

"Hmm. Difficult. I don't know. I suppose we'd better. We need a nap when we get to the motel. A long one."

"A very, very, long one." Christian nodded in agreement, focusing his gaze on Syed's mouth.

"The longest. Here." Syed put the car key on the table. "Your go."

"Nah. Funny, you in the driving seat has been a massive turn on." Christian winked. "You can stay in it for later…"


	4. Chapter 4

Syed threw himself back onto the bed and laid his hand on Christian's wet stomach, feeling the ridge of raised veins, waiting until he could catch his breath to say,

"Best nap ever."

Still panting, Christian nodded his agreement and twisted his fingers into Syed's hair.

"Fuck yes…" He yawned widely. "….Exhausting." He tipped Syed's face towards his and kissed him slowly, luxuriously, reluctantly breaking away. "We're incredibly anti-social." From the room next to theirs, they heard a shriek, followed by Sam's voice, loudly berating Steve for some misdemeanour.

"Can't think why." Syed mused dryly.

"Ha!" Christian rolled over, lifting his phone from the melamine side table to check the time. Syed happily gazed at the curve of his buttocks, the tan line around his hips and the pale skin below, lit by the thin streak of sunshine that pierced through a gap in the curtains. "Ooh, three missed calls. One from Rox and two from Barry."

"I thought I heard something buzz. Hard to tell above your grunting."

"Grunting?" Christian turned, phone in mid-air, and raised one eyebrow. "Charming. Those were my passionate love cries!"

"Yes dear. Of course they were. Not a wildebeest in pain." Syed deftly fielded the pillow that Christian had aimed at his head and laughed, clutching it to his chest and hugging it tightly. "I suppose we have to get up."

"I suppose we do."

"MICHAEL!" Sam's trilling echoed along the passageway, followed by the sound of rapid knocking. "ARE YOU NAKED?"

"If only to distract Sam." Syed groaned. "Good job Steve's not the violent, possessive type."

"So true." Christian swung his legs out of the bed and stretched. "I'd better see what our friends wanted. What do you going to do? Are you sleepy?"

Syed thoughtfully licked his lips.

"No. Hungry. And I need coffee. I'll grab a shower and go and see what the café over the road has to offer."

"Hello." Rory, iPad propped against a set of condiment bottles in front of him, dragged his gaze upwards and smiled vaguely at Syed, blinking as he fought reluctantly into reality, struggling from his deep concentration, seeming bemused to find himself in a noisy cafe in America and not the hushed confines of the British Library.

"Hi! Where's Michael? Has Sam snatched him and held him prisoner?" Syed asked.

"Ha ha! Probably." The corners of Rory's mouth sagged down sadly. "I left him hacking off that magnificent face fungus; the agony of its loss was too much for me, I couldn't bear witnessing the desecration."

"Oh I'm sorry!" Syed dragged out a chair and sat beside him. "I should have said no to lending him my beard trimmer."

"It's okay. I'll survive. It was making him hot and grumpy. There's a menu here somewhere… The waffles are good."

Syed took the recommendation and ordered from an elderly waitress. Watching as she tottered slowly to the counter, he wondered if he would have to wait a lifetime until she returned, his stomach growling angrily at the possibility.

"Don't worry." Rory said kindly. "A spritely young thing brings the food out."

"I'm glad to hear it, poor old soul. That's a nice bit of kit. Is it new?"

"Yes." Rory sighed and jabbed at the touch screen with his forefinger. "It was a Christmas present, even though he promised he wouldn't get anything other than our joint one…"

"What was that?"

Rory put his tongue between his teeth and swiped at the screen, twisting it so that Syed could see.

"Gilbert."

Syed looked politely at a picture of a puppy with a whiskery muzzle and a comical expression, summoning the appropriate appreciative noises.

"He's a miniature Schnauzer. We haven't got him yet, dogs not being for Christmas and all, plus he's too little to leave his mother and we've been away. I'm just worried his arrival will really piss the cat off…" Sensing Syed's fine attempt at concealing his apathy, Rory grinned apologetically. "Forgive me. I'm painting a picture of hideous smug cosiness. Feel free to punch me. In fact I might punch myself for being so nauseating."

"Oh don't. Smug cosiness sounds rather lovely." The truth of his statement surprised Syed, and he added, "Now."

"Terrifying though. Here come your waffles. Wish I hadn't already eaten mine."

Syed drooled at the smell of the hot coffee and at the sight of the mountain of golden squares, dripping in maple syrup. He was just savouring the first delicious mouthful, glad that Rory's companionable silence allowed him to focus totally on his food, when the glass door burst open and Michael strolled in, Sam following close behind.

"Hey! So this is where you've got to! That looks awesome." Michael paused beside Syed to admire his meal, sticking his finger into a blob of maple syrup and licking it appreciatively, dipping long eyelashes with a cheeky grin.

"Yum." He bent to drape his arms around Rory's neck, pressing his cheek against his, rubbing it along his jaw. "There you go. Three-day growth, male model beard again, as standard. Don't hate me."

"Aw." Rory reached up to pat his face. "Where's my Brian Blessed gone?"

"Up Mount Everest!" Michael boomed, in a passingly good imitation, so loud that it made the elderly waitress stagger slightly and tap at her ear, suspicious that her hearing aid had malfunctioned.

"Hush, you're frightening the locals with your crazy English ways." Rory chided.

Michael flashed an apologetic smile, miming that he didn't need serving and saving her a trip. Her tired, lined face glowed briefly, revealing the hidden traces of the girl that still lived beneath her aging skin and she waved, flustered and grateful.

"She needs a sit down. Should we make her a cup of tea? What you doing honey? Working on your thing?" He peered at the screen. "It's Gilbert! Sam, look…"

"Mmm?" Sam, temporarily absorbed by a cowboy passing in front of the window, stopped checking him out and wandered over to join them.

"Is it filthy? Oh!" His hands flapped in delight and his sharp features softened. "Adorable! You've so got to bring him round to ours for a puppy sleep over!"

Leaning back slowly in his chair, Rory rolled his eyes at Syed and mouthed, "Help."

Grinning sympathetically, Syed savoured the sweet, warm taste of the crispy waffles, half-listening to the conversation with fond amusement, one eye on the street outside, waiting for a familiar tall broad figure to breeze in.

"Uhura would LOVE him! He could be her boyfriend. She's so straight. You've got to buy him a Cavalli track suit…"

Michael's jaw dropped and he gaped at Sam.

"A what, what? For dogs?"

"They're fab. Velour. You can get silk shorts as well. I could run you up a mini doggy tee shirt. Check out the Gucci collars, bit minimalist for my taste. Why not one encrusted with Swarovski crystals?"

Groaning quietly, Rory bowed his head, hiding behind his flop of brown hair.

"You are insane, Sam. Our dog's having something butch. With studs. "Michael protested. You'll be suggesting little bootees next!"

"Trainers." Sam nodded, deadpan. "Nike…" His thin face creased and he giggled. "You gullible twat. I'm winding you up. I wouldn't subject my girlie to any of that. She has got a very posh bed though and I do take her for a bit of pampering at Pooch Paradise…"

"You utter fucker." Michael pinched Sam's arm. "I believed you." He scratched at the cropped hair above Rory's exposed nape. "It's safe to come out now, sweetheart. We're going shopping. Do you want anything?"

Syed put down his coffee cup, sliding the base over the uneven mosaic tiles that covered the table top.

"Shopping?" He asked. "I hope you don't both want a horse. Think this town's only got one."

"Ha! Very droll." Sam lowered his neat brows dramatically. "We're going shopping for men."

"Piss off. You might be. I'd only be window shopping." Michael dropped a kiss on the bone at the top of Rory's spine. "Going to take the car back, boo, and then get supplies for when we head out into the wilderness. We need beans! Mountains of beans, for all our campest of fires. Need to find somewhere passably swanky for us to eat tonight, too. There's a good club here somewhere, according to the guide, small, cool, and hopefully wondrously seedy. Anyhoo, come on Sammers. Try not to get us both beaten up. Do you need to let Steve know where you are?"

Sam flicked his fingers dismissively.

"She's found a gym." He said it with as much disgust as if Steve had discovered a crack den in a rat infested sewer. "We won't see her 'til she gets hungry." He pouted seductively at Syed. "Aren't you joining us, sweet cheeks?"

"I'll wait for Christian."

"And Rory can't join us either, Sam." Michael stated huffily, annoyed that Sam had omitted him from the invitation. "He's busy with Byzantine business." He sensed a change in Syed's energy, a little burst of electricity that seemed to buzz in the air. "Christian's about to walk in…" He swivelled on his heels, turning away from Sam. "What do you know? I'm psychotic. Hi buddy!"

"Hey, bunch of reprobates." Christian loped over, tall and broad, in a checked shirt and jeans, to stand beside Syed, briefly touching his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"We're going on an adventure. Care to join us?" Sam bounded towards the door, expecting Christian to follow.

Christian checked Syed's eyes and saw from the subtle narrowing that he didn't want him to, but wasn't going to say.

"You're alright. I've got all the adventure I need right here. I'm going to grab something fatty and unhealthy to eat, as I'm on me 'olidays."

"Suit yourself…" Sam paused in the open doorway and said innocently. "…I shall miss your sofa by the way. I've enjoyed sitting on it. Naked. Bye!"

Syed felt a little bit of maple syrup rise up in his throat and shot a look of horror at Christian.

"We're getting it recovered."

"Hell yes. We are." Christian vehemently agreed. "After we've had it industrially steam cleaned." He slid into the seat opposite Syed and flipped the menu from its metal holder. "Mmm. Food. Roxy sends her love. Don't look like that. And Zahida and Baz." Christian rested his chin on the top of the laminated card and grinned cheerfully.

"Guess what? I have news."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Now, where was I? :) xxx**_

* * *

Christian's eyes flashed with annoyance, his cheery mood flattening as if Syed had sat on it and then bounced around for good measure, to make sure it was completely squashed. Tetchily, he slapped the menu against the bone of Syed's wrist.

"Buzzkill…"

"Oh pants." Rory groaned and scratched his head, staring woefully at the dimming tablet screen.

Relieved at the timely distraction from the impending tiff, Christian leaned across the table and asked kindly,

"What's up stud?"

"Either I'm going blind, blinder, or the power is ebbing away. I daresay I might have remembered to bring a charger, possibly not the right one. I'll have to go and have a rummage in the Winnebago. That's not a euphemism." He blinked and pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. "Since I started living with Michael, I seem to inhabit a house full of little black wiry pluggy things. Lord knows what any of them do."

"Will you have lost any of your work? I could maybe try and recover it for you." Syed offered, also pleased at the interruption that Rory's mini crisis had provided, troubled by the tiny, sick twist in his gullet that the thought of news from home had stirred.

"No, it's okay, thank you. I was just checking over stuff."

"What are you working on?"

"A paper on Byzantine Illuminations." Rory said, sounding apologetic, as if he expected them both to instantly faint with boredom. "So anti-social when we're meant to be on holiday. I wanted to finish it before we came. I've hardly had any time with Michael lately. He's been busy, I've been busy. Then I lost him for a week to Call of Duty…"

Christian grunted disparagingly.

"Should have pulled the plug out."

"I wouldn't have known which one!" Rory smiled, skin at the corner of his eyes creasing. "Actually, I was quite impressed at his commitment; he usually has the attention span of a spoon. He was so deliciously contrite afterwards…" He stood, tucking the tablet under his arm and looking vaguely about the café. "Anyway, you have news to impart Christian, and I expect you're hungry."

Christian nodded and patted his stomach.

"Starved. Though I have no idea what this meal is, my body clock's all to cock. It's probably lunchtime, but I want breakfast, despite having had one on the plane here."

"I find you can never have too many breakfasts. Bye 'bye."

Rory struggled with the café door, pushing instead of pulling, despite the clearly visible sign above the handle, and loitered on the pavement for a while, looking vaguely from left to right, ignoring gaps in the traffic. Christian watched his progress, grinning when he eventually took the plunge and almost collided with a woman on a bicycle.

"Did you see that?" Christian laughed. "Bless him, he needs a keeper." He clapped as Rory safely reached the other side of the road. "He made it! Nice arse."

Letting the knife drop with a clatter, Syed leaned back and grumpily folded his arms tight across his chest.

"Michael could do so much better. Why was he sniping about him? All that complaining about chargers and computer games. He should count himself lucky."

"Eh?" Christian narrowed his eyes and studied Syed's cross, pouting, face. "Are you mad? He's almost leaking delight every time he mentions him. You couldn't sense his joy at all the dull old tiresome coupley stuff?" He reached across the table, gently touching Syed's elbow. "I though you liked him now?"

"I do." Syed sulkily admitted. Aware that he was being sour and unreasonable, he slumped further down in his seat, mumbling, "He's been very kind to me, considering..."

The waitress had begun her tortuous, tottering, approach and Christian shook his head to stop her. Jumping up, he held out his hand.

"She looks like she's going to offer us two soups... Come on. It's stuffy in here. I'm taking you for a walk."

In a small park, away from the main streets, filled with birdsong and the distant sound of children playing, sitting beside Syed on an old wooden bench beneath a cherry tree, Christian wiped his mouth with a napkin and burped.

"I swear Maccy D's taste better here." He stuffed the napkin into the brown paper bag on his lap and scrunched it up, tossing it into the bin beside him. "Now then. Have you got over yourself yet?"

Sheepishly, Syed slipped his hand into Christian's feeling the warmth of his palm against his own.

"Yeah. I've been a moany old Quentin."

"Ha! Yes, you have. What's up?"

"Dunno." Syed shrugged, knowing full well that he feared the news from home, hating the intrusion, the inevitable onslaught of the real world racing to meet them. "Yes I do. News. Is it shit?"

"Oh for fucks sake, no!" Christian gave Syed's fingers a reassuring squeeze. "I spoke to Ames, until the signal broke up, and she told me she'd drawn a picture of us on donkeys. Why donkeys, I have no idea."

"Is that the news? Ha! Amy in random donkey sketch horror?"

"Yes." Christian nodded seriously. "And you got your boxers in a tizzy… No, dumb arse. Barry's firm are opening a branch in Brum, and there's plans for an on-site gym. He wondered if I'd be interested in setting it up, design, equipment, then running some classes."

"Ah." Syed met Christian's eyes. "Not shit."

"Not shit. Good."

"I'm a prat."

"Yes, my darling. You are." Christian fondly ruffled Syed's hair. "You're tired. We probably should have had a real nap."

The suggestion made Syed yawn. "Where's the fun in that? I think I've got a sugar crash from the maple syrup. What does Barry's firm do again? I forget."

"Commodities, or commodes. Maybe there'll be work for you?"

"Commodious. Maybe there will." Syed yawned again, more widely, showing his white teeth, and studied a green beetle battling along the path at his feet, stoically pushing a curled leaf, twice its size, before it. "Every company needs a grumpy, melodramatic, dick head."

Christian sighed, nudging Syed's shoulder, exasperated by his lack of confidence.

"Just the man for the job. Or they might need someone clever, driven, hardworking, tenacious, loyal and funny. That sounds a lot like you too… You're vibrating."

Smiling gratefully, touched by the support, Syed groped in his back pocket for his phone.

"Well then, I'm definitely their man. It'll be the vibro skills that clinch it." He squinted at the message. "It's Michael. He says Sam is going to get them both arrested and he needs to know what shoe size you are." He quickly tapped a reply.

"Why on earth does he need to know that?" Christian grimaced, imagining a conversation between Sam and Michael that probably involved comparisons between the size of his feet and the size of his manhood. Focusing on this thought, he looked sideways at Syed, who, cheerful now, was smiling innocently into the middle distance. "How come he doesn't need to know yours?"

"I expect he remembers." Syed responded.

"Oh yeah? Why would he have that burned on his memory?"

"I'm hard to forget. Every tiny little detail, utterly fascinating. Are you jealous?" Syed raised one eyebrow, feeling pleasantly smug. "Not a leg to stand on, perving over Rory's arse."

"I wasn't perving! I was… noticing and remarking." Taking the phone from Syed's grasp, Christian leaned him forward, pushing it firmly back into his pocket, letting his touch linger, thinking of the skin beneath the denim. "Yours is sexier. What do you want to do? Shall we take ourselves off somewhere and swerve this dinner, club thing?"

Syed wriggled, trapping Christian's fingers, enjoying the rising sense of contented calm, allowing it to drive away his gloominess with a rush of relief.

"That would be rude. I think I might need another nap before we go out."

Nuzzling against his ear, Christian murmured,

"Tiger."

"Sorry sex beast, you were right, I'd better have a proper one this time."


	6. Chapter 6

"Shut up."

Christian, suffering behind his sunglasses, sank lower into the navy canvas director's chair, dwarfing it with his muscular frame, looking as if he had squashed himself into a child's seat for a bet. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and glowered at his boots.

"I never said anything!" Syed protested.

"You were thinking. Really loudly. Ow."

"Poor flower. Do you want me to find you some Paracetamol?"

As Syed moved to fetch some from the Winnebago, his shadow shifted, taking away its protection from Christian's face, allowing the afternoon sun to flash hot against his skin.

"Don't move!" Christian pleaded. "I'm dying."

Obediently returning to his original position, Syed asked,

"How did you cope when I wasn't here?"

"I often ask myself that… Where have you been? I woke up with Sam's feet in my face and no sign of you." The raging pain hammering against his temples made Christian feel piteous and needy. He groped blindly for Syed's hand.

"Went for a walk. It's beautiful, acres of nothingness and sky..." He thought of the wild scenery, high banks of pure white cloud high above the distant mountain ridges, happily relishing his clear-minded sense of blissful calm. "Good job Michael bought us these cowboy boots, think I saw a snake."

Christian shuddered.

"Ugh. Only Sam could hunt out a pair in patent red leather. Mind you, the sight of them would send any sensible snake scuttling back to his hole… Do they live in holes? Burrow. Nest. My brain hurts."

Rolling his eyes, Syed tried to muster some sympathy for the self-inflicted torment, not voicing his thought that no one had forced him to drink so much the night before, recalling instead the noisy club, the hilarity and the soppy, tequila sodden declarations of love.

"How is everyone else bearing up? Steve wasn't drinking was he?"

"Ha!" Christian snorted. "He could drink gallons and it would make no difference. He's lifting up big rocks, Michaels still buzzing like a maniac; don't think he's been to sleep yet, Rory's face down in a badly erected tent and Sam's hugging the toilet bowl, weeping for his mother. I can hardly remember getting here."

"I had to help you dress and propel you out of the hotel."

Squeezing his eyelids shut, Christian tried to raise his head, deciding against it as another wave of pain gripped across his brow.

"Was I a nightmare?"

"Obviously. You did some splendid singing last night. The Line Dancing was quite epic too."

"Oh yeah! My achy, breaky, heart. The shame. Can you make me a sandwich?"

Syed waved an imaginary wand.

"You're a sandwich. Come and lie down. You need some water."

"Can't. Can't get out of the chair. Wedged. Have we got a parasol?"

"A what?" Syed laughed. "Are you a Victorian maiden with a fit of the vapours? Here you go Emily…" He grabbed Christian's other hand and dug his heels into the dirt, bracing himself to pull Christian upright. They staggered together, the chair folding itself up and collapsing with a sad creak. "Let's get you some smelling salts and a cold compress."

They stumbled towards the gleaming Winnebago, met by the sound of Steve grunting through a work out and the sight of Sam, perched piteously on the steps, thin face pinched and, despite the layers of fake tan, strangely pale.

"Why does he look so disgustingly well?" He wailed, gesturing towards Syed.

"Because he wasn't a twat necking gallons of alcohol." Christian slumped onto the step below him and flung his arm across his legs. "Sammy, it hurts."

"Who's a twat?" Michael appeared from behind the van, blue eyes bright and dark hair tousled. "I can't find any wood."

"I'll give you wood, darling." Sam drawled half-heartedly, aware that, in his present state, it would be a miracle if he were capable.

Ignoring Sam's smut, Syed asked,

"What do you want wood for?"

"For a fire! I'm going to brew some coffee, see if that resurrects my boyfriend."

"There's a coffee machine in there." Sam jabbed his thumb behind him. "Use that." Michael regarded him with pity.

"But that's no fun! Syed, will you help me? Those two old farts look broken."

"OLD? OLD?" Sam attempted to bridle at the insult, but couldn't quite summon the energy for a waspish retort, and resorted to muttering, "Fuck off."

"Go on then." Syed bent to kiss Christian. "You, sort yourself out before I get back."

* * *

"Why is there never a Baobab tree when you need one?" Michael gloomily surveyed the horizon and frowned.

"Baobab?" Syed laughed. "Aren't we on the wrong continent?"

"Oh I don't know. You looked too distractingly delightful in Geography for me to ever take any notice of Mrs. Tomkins wittering on… Ha!" Pouncing on a small twig, Michael waved it triumphantly at Syed.

"Awesome." Syed dutifully admired it, adding encouragingly, "Now we're on a roll!"

Tipping his head to one side, Michael pouted.

"Sarky git. We should have kept driving. If Steve hadn't listened to Sam whinging on because the bumps in the track where making him heave, we might have found a lake, could've caught fish for tea. Ho hum. Let's try over there…"

Syed followed his friend as he darted across the barren earth, beginning to doubt the sanity of his fruitless search. Coming to the same conclusion, Michael sighed.

"I suppose we could burn some furniture from the 'bago. They might not notice when we take it back." He perched on top of a boulder, dusting off the rough surface, clearing a place for Syed to join him, and took a pouch of tobacco from his jeans pocket. "Me and Rory were meant to give up at New Year. I lasted four hours, he managed twenty minutes. I had three hours, forty minutes of magnificent moral superiority. We are horribly, pathetically weak, and Fred is terribly disappointed in us."

Syed leant beside him, watching him lick along the paper, feeling the acrid tang of smoke burn inside his nostrils as the tip of the cigarette glowed red.

"It'll stunt your growth." He said.

Stowing away his lighter, Michael nodded. "Yep. Should really be eight foot tall. Are you having fun, matey?" He tentatively touched Syed's arm. "You seemed a bit meh when we all turned up."

A flash of guilt hit Syed and, concerned that he hadn't managed to conceal his true feelings, he began to bluster.

"No, no! Why would you think that? Not at all…"

Under Michael's candid gaze, the pretence crumbled, and he admitted,

"Okay, maybe a little bit. Christian and me have had such a brilliant time lately, just the two of us, no stressy crap. I got a bit freaked, it was like the real world was hurtling to meet us, made me realise that it's not long before we have to go home. I seem like an ungrateful twat. It's fun. I'm enjoying myself. Truly."

"You could try and sound a bit more convincing." Seeing Syed's mortified expression, Michael laughed. "I'm joking. I know exactly what you mean." He picked a strand of stray tobacco from his bottom lip. "I'm jealous. Me and Ror have bugger all time together. I can't stop saying yes to people that want to give me ridiculous amounts of cash to wear clothes, or sometimes not, and have my picture taken. I keep meaning to do less, concentrate more on my photography, but then I figure it's easy money, and it won't be there forever. He had to really struggle, bringing Fred up. I like that they can have a better life now." He raised an eyebrow and added mischievously. "I, of course, have no interest in material things."

"No, not you, you're happiest up the allotment and finding stuff in skips." A sudden breeze lifted Syed's hair from the nape of his neck, and he shivered, despite the warmth. "I hope I can provide for Yasmin."

"You will. Once you're in Birmingham! Birmingham." Michael's mouth drooped sadly. "You'd better let us come and visit."

"Fuck no! We're not even giving you our address." Syed teased.

"Bastards." Michael flicked the end of his roll up into the air. "We'll hunt you down. Take no mind of my moaning. It's probably worse at the moment 'cause Rory's a bit stressed and distracted about getting a… Shit. I'm not allowed to say, he thinks it'll jinx it."

"You have to say now! A what?"

"Aargh, I can't! It begins with a P."

"Penis enlargement?" Syed blinked innocently.

"Ha ha! Size Queen. He certainly doesn't need one of those. A to do with his work P. Often prefaced with nutty. I am so shit at keeping secrets."

Studying his handsome profile, touched by the love and pride, Syed said fondly,

"You kept mine."

"I did, didn't I? Even though you thought I hadn't."

"Then more fool me. I'm sure he'll get to be a P."

"Aw, course he will. He pretends he isn't bothered, but he isn't fooling me." Michael yawned, the sleepless night catching up on him in a rush of weariness, his hyperactivity fizzling out. He retrieved the solitary twig and twirled it thoughtfully between his fingers, passing it over his knuckles. "Perhaps I should abandon the bonfire plan."

Squinting, Syed peered past Michael towards a dip in the ground, a gulley formed by a pool that had dried up years before, and spotted a jagged brown shape.

"One of the many things I've learnt from Christian is to never, ever give up…" He lifted his arm to point. "Is that, or is that not, a whole heap of the finest wood?"


	7. Chapter 7

"STEVE!"

Michael and Syed protested at the same time, their faces contorted with disgust, whilst Christian fanned the air in front of his nose, Rory appeared slightly pained and Sam rolled his eyes.

"He is a disgusting pig." Sam said apologetically. "But I did warn you about the beans."

Cheerfully wiping his plate clean with a hunk of crusty bread, his face glowing demonically red from the flames of the campfire, Steve shrugged and grinned.

"None of you can prove it was me. I think you're deflecting."

"Hah! I think you're defecating. How much have you eaten?"

Steve winked at Christian, putting his empty plate on to the earth beside him and wiping his mouth with the back of his large hand.

"Not enough. Is there anymore?"

Jumping to his feet, Michael ran his fingers through his dark hair, frowning as he tried to recall the exact amount of food he had bought.

"The sausages have all gone, vegetarian and meaty, there's still a catering vat of beans that would feed a small festival, or you, and a Poussin."

"Poussin?"

Syed asked, with a laugh. Stretched out on a pile of cushions beside Christian's chair, watching the sparks fly from the fire, as bright as the expanse of stars above them, Syed felt relaxed and happy. He reached to take Christian's hand. "Do you fancy a poussin?"

"You make it sound so filthy. What on earth possessed you to buy one miniscule baby chicken?"

"They'd run out of grown up ones, and it was the last, and I felt sorry for it, a short tragic life, all alone, nestling forgotten in Dex's Ranch Mart." Michael's expression became gloomy for a moment, affected by the poignant picture he had painted. Instantly brightening, he added, "And we have a spit type contraption; I wanted to try it out. Ah well... What can I get people? Coffee? Beer?"

He looked first to Rory, who shook his head, smiling fondly.

"Nothing, thank you darling, I'm stuffed. We're real cowboys, aren't we? With our fancy rotisserie and tiny posh fowl."

"Ha ha! Yes we are! It's how the West was won. Ste? Can I rustle you up anything?"

Sam tutted.

"For god's sake don't get her any more beans; she'll blow the roof off the Winnebago. Get us a bottle of red."

"Bottle of red for the Aston-Mayo's. Anything for the Clarke-Masood's?"

Christian waggled his bottle of beer, checking the level of the liquid.

"Nah, cheers. I'm good." He glanced at Syed. "Sy?"

Studying the lights glittering in Christian's pupils, Syed pondered, imagining different tastes in his mouth.

"Have we got any hot chocolate?"

"Yes indeedy! I am the hostess with the mostess."

Pleased that he had successfully catered for everyone, even if he had not been given a valid excuse to take the brand new, overpriced, spit from its box, Michael bounded happily towards the Winnebago. As he passed behind Christian's seat, Christian grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, whispering something in his ear.

Syed shifted himself upright, sitting cross-legged.

"What are you up to, Clarkey?"

"Me? Nothing." Christian opened his eyes wide, smiling innocently.

"Don't believe a fucking word Syed." Sam advised dryly, studying his mobile phone intently, peering through the dark at the screen. "He's plotting."

"Piss off you." Christian frowned." What are you doing? Are you trying to get Grindr? I can tell you exactly how many gay men there are in your vicinity, including you, six. And the number that want to hook up is one, and you're married to him."

Steve snorted loudly, sounding like a bull preparing to charge.

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Sam tipped himself elegantly from his fold up chair and sashayed over.

"You're all quite rude. Actually, I was doing this…"

He thrust the phone at Christian, revealing a picture of Syed, lit by the gold light of the fire, gazing serenely into space. "…I thought he looked pretty."

"Aww! Send it to me!"

Ignoring Christian's entreaty, Sam returned to his perch.

"Can't. There's no signal. If there were, I'd be perving at porn."

"Who's perving at porn?"

Michael asked. He struggled towards them, laden with things. A bottle under one arm, a can of squirty cream under the other, trailing a bundle of thin metal rods, a plastic bag stuffed down the front of his tee shirt, cradling the Poussin and clutching a pot and two mugs. Rory jumped up to help him, and they laughed, juggling the little chicken between them, making clucking noises.

"That's for you…" Michael slid the bottle of wine out and dropped it into Sam's lap. "This is for you, careful it's hot." He handed the pot to Syed, putting the mugs and the can of cream on the ground. "And…" He whipped the bag, full of pink and white marshmallows, from out of his tee shirt with a flourish. "…These are from Christian." He turned away, crouching to assemble the metal rods of the contraption with Rory. Syed took Christian's hand, lifting it to his mouth to kiss it.

"When did you get these?"

"In New York, from that Halal deli."

"I wondered what you were doing, furtively skulking and randomly sending me off to look for Lady Grey tea! Thank you so much. This is complete bliss." Syed poured the hot thick chocolate into two mugs and ripped the bag open with his teeth, dropping two soft marshmallows onto the top, watching them melt, pink and white sweetness swirling together. He took a sip, licking his lips with pleasure.

"I had to hide them in a pair of boxers in my rucksack." Christian lifted the other cup, squirting cream with a hiss, forming it into a high peak.

"Ha!" Syed spluttered with mirth. "Such a romantic."

"Hurrah!" Michael pressed a switch and the rotisserie buzzed into life, jerkily turning the poussin above the flames. "It works!"

"It looks really sad." Rory commented, watching the bird revolve, the fat hissing in the heat and the skin crackling.

"Yes." Michael glumly agreed, wrapping his arms around him. "I don't think I want to eat it. Should we bury it? Give it a funeral service?"

"Fuck's sake, you twats." Steve chuckled. "I'll eat it."

"Quelle surprise." Sam muttered under his breath.

"It's strangely hypnotic…" Michael yawned, sagging against Rory's shoulder.

"Yes. Michael?" Rory dipped his head, studying Michael's face, seeing the long eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones. "He's gone. Burnt out at last. Come on beautiful."

"Do you want some help with him?"

"No, thanks Christian. I can trundle him, I've had plenty of practise. Night everyone." Rory lifted the sleeping Michael's elbow and ducked beneath it, grabbing his waist and gently propelling him along. Michael grunted something that sounded like "walking" followed by "sexy giblet" and dutifully allowed Rory to lead him away.

Christian lazily ran his fingers through Syed's hair.

"Shall we turn in?"

Nodding, Syed drained the last of his hot chocolate, letting the gloop of melted mallow slip deliciously down his throat.

"Mmm. Take me to our tent."

* * *

Christian pushed back the unzipped sleeping bag and squinted through the dark at the back of Syed's head.

"And you're sure you want to do it this way?"

Without looking round, Syed said firmly,

"Yes. We can swap next time."

"Next time!" Christian rubbed his hands gleefully, lying on the rough earth, struggling to keep his distance from Syed's body. "Fab! Ready?"

"Will you stop saying ready!" Syed hissed. "You're messing with the mood. You'll know when I'm ready"

"Okey dokey!" Christian closed his eyes, flaring his nostrils at the dank, forest smell of the canvas tent. Listening to Syed's steady breathing, he felt his nerve endings jangle with expectation. Impatient and aroused, he opened his mouth to speak, suddenly suspicious that Syed had dropped off. He quickly closed it; teeth snapping together, as Syed firmly took his hand, pulling his arm across his waist. Taking his cue, he struggled upright and violently jerked backwards. Syed grabbed his shoulders, eyes wide and dark with desire, but Christian's boot had become trapped underneath him, and the momentum made him lose his balance and he cannoned into the side of the tent, causing it to shudder, flap, then slowly descend, enveloping them both in canvas. With a comedy boing, one of the metal support poles snapped free, bounced twice, spun round, and struck Christian firmly in the groin.

"Shit! Shit!" Christian fought his way free of the tent, wincing at the sickening sharp pain. Unaware of his distress, Syed rolled around, wriggling like a caterpillar beneath the canvas, convulsed and weeping with laughter.

"Oi!" Christian dragged him out and pouted sadly, wanting sympathy. "I've damaged my manhood."

"Haaa! Broke knackers! I'm sorry! Ha! Ow! My stomach. Haaaa!" Leaning forward, Syed blew a kiss, aiming it in the direction of Christian's crotch, still spluttering. "Perhaps we could re-erect it and try again…"

"What? My cock or the tent?" Grumpily, Christian manoeuvred a tent peg out from under his knee. "They're both fucked. We'll have to sleep in the Winnebago."

"Aw, poor cock! We can't sleep in there with Sam, and Steve's tempestuous bowels." Recovering his composure, Syed burrowed down and retrieved the pillows and sleeping bags. Emerging tousled and flushed from hilarity, he pointed to the sky. The moon sailed high, the constellations shining, vivid against the black.

"It's beautiful out here. I'll keep you warm. Come…"

Christian snuggled beside him, allowing himself to be covered, the pillow plumped solicitously behind his head.

"...Privates still hurty?"

"Better now. Is that the Great Bear?"

Spent from marshmallows and hilarity, Syed nestled under the secure crook of Christian's arm and felt his lids grow heavy.

"Massive bear. I do love you Christian. You're such a nice man…"

Christian gaped at him, aghast at the choice of compliment. Regarding Syed's peaceful face, tranquil and beautiful as he drifted into sleep, Christian tenderly kissed his forehead and muttered,

"Nice?"


	8. Chapter 8

Christian pushed the heavy canvas from his face and reached out to pat the earth beside him, disappointed to find an empty space where Syed should have been. Yawning, he struggled upright, half-heartedly straightening his sleep crumpled clothes. He grimaced at the sour metal taste in his mouth and, rubbing the stubble on his chin, staggered towards the Winnebago.

Sunlight flashed off the gleaming metal and he closed his eyes. Opening them, he blinked again, taken aback by the sight of Michael's bare buttocks.

"Good Lord."

Hearing his voice, Michael, washing up at the sink clad in only a short, tight, yellow vest and a pair of matching Marigold's, span round and exclaimed delightedly,

"Hello Christian!"

"Hello Michael. Damn, I've seen the infamous cock now. I no longer feel special."

Sitting on the sofa, hands wrapped around a cup, Syed smiled.

"You'll always be special to me! Coffee?"

"I'll get it." Christian, unconvinced by Syed's statement, reached across Michael and grabbed the coffee jug. Taking the clean mug that Michael handed him, he gestured towards his arm. "New ink? Sweet!"

Michael glanced at the intertwined initials, an R and M, bright jewel colours surrounded by fantastic foliage that adorned his upper arm, above the dark pattern of the Celtic band.

"Thanks! Rory says if our relationship all goes to shit, I can have an A put in front, to remind me which limb it is. He's so romantic."

Laughing, Syed moved to make room for Christian to join him. He frowned slightly, seeing the stony profile, saddened by the lack of a kiss.

"You okay, Clarkey?" He tentatively touched his shoulder.

"Fine. I'm very, very… Nice."

"Eh?"

Christian tipped his head to meet Syed's confused gaze.

"That's what you told me last night. You're a nice man, you said."

"You are a nice man! Isn't he Michael?"

Nodding, Michael pulled off the washing up gloves with a dramatic snap.

"An incredibly nice man."

The wooden doors at the rear of the Winnebago slid open, revealing Sam, a white towel wrapped around his head, pale green, clinging satin dressing gown, tied loosely at his waist. He raised one carefully plucked eyebrow.

"Who's a nice man?" He asked.

"Christian." Michael and Syed spoke together, whilst Christian snorted his disgust.

"Him? Oh, he's a ghastly old bastard. Aren't you doll face? Nice. Eeurgh, who wants to be called that nimby pimby little word? I'd rather be downright evil, which is handy, because I am!"

"See?" Christian nudged Syed's elbow. "Sam understands!"

Genuinely bewildered, Syed wrinkled his nose.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're on about. Why are you in such a crap mood?"

"Last night, before you went to sleep, you told me I was a nice man."

Syed rolled his eyes. "And this gave you the hump? You big daft knob."

Sniffing huffily, Christian stuck out his lower lip.

"I'd rather have heard that I was a magnificent sex beast, heroic warrior, your Superman or something…" He grumbled.

"Well you are! And sometimes, you're a petulant tit." Syed kissed Christian's cheek and chuckled. "I've just remembered, I had a dream about Mr. Kipling. He was at the bottom of Turpin Road, baking cakes for Dot on a barbecue"

Christian groaned and swung his legs up onto the seat, lying down, his head in Syed's lap.

"I'm a twat. Sorry. Morning. Oh dear, I've got a full on view of O'Riordan's giblets…"

"Aren't they marvellous?" Sam sighed, and fanned at his cheek with his hand. "Is there breakfast? I have a sudden yen for a big meaty sausage and two boiled eggs."

Avoiding Sam's groping fingers, dodging around as if he were engaged in an undersea battle with a lecherous octopus, Michael said,

"There's a campsite up the road with a diner and proper showers." Holding Sam back with a strong hand on his chest, he grinned naughtily. "We were meant to camp there last night. Whoops! I thought being out in the wilds would be more fun. Is Steve up? Rory's getting rid of any trace of our existence…" He went to the door and, impressed at the tangle of canvas and poles, envious at the frenzied lovemaking that he imagined had caused the chaos, whistled softly. "Dear me, what happened to your tent? Wild. You filthy buggers. Rory! Are you done? What? Okay." He turned, a flush on his tanned cheekbones, blue eyes sparkling, and grabbed an apron from the draining board, covering himself up. "Aw! He told me to fuck off, and while I was fucking off, to fucking put it away. I love it when he's arsey."

"Yeah…" Syed grinned and stroked Christian's forehead, smoothing out the furrows with a gentle touch. "I know what you mean."

* * *

Syed felt his spine moulding comfortably into the leather seat. He flexed his hands on the wheel, stretching out long fingers, one by one. The empty road ran straight before him, mountains, blurred grey, soft on the far horizon. The slow pulse of the engine, the fullness of is stomach after the huge breakfast he had eaten, the sound of muffled laughter and singing from within the Winnebago, all combined soporifically, and he blinked, shaking his head to force concentration. A red pick-up truck appeared from the right, powering across the barren yellow dust to join the road. He had a sudden urge, at the sight of another being in the desolate spot, to toot the horn and wave, glad, when he saw the stern face of the driver, thin mouth set in a grim line, shotgun propped on the passenger seat beside him, that he had managed to resist. 'Definitely gay' he decided. He shifted his buttocks, adjusting his posture to keep himself alert. Rolling his neck from side to side, humming cheerfully, he almost snapped a vertebra as the partition behind him scraped open and Sam shrieked, "Voted off! Fuckers!"

He clambered over to sit beside Syed, pulling ineffectually on the safety belt, making it click and recoil several times. Irritated, on the point of letting go of the wheel and doing it for him, Syed was relieved when he gave up, lounging precariously, feet tucked beneath him. With a pang of guilt, imagining a string of accidents, a coyote suddenly running in front of the Winnebago, a buzzard strike, him having a random spasm, Syed suggested,

"You should put that on really. Do you want me to stop?"

"Aw, bless you!" Sam tried again, successfully; smirking suggestively as he slowly slotted the metal clasps together. "There. I'm in. All safe. Christian was worried you might be lonely, or asleep."

Syed laughed.

"Nearly, the latter. What are you lot up to back there? It sounds hilarious."

"Michael's pissed, and that what's his face he hangs round with, at least, I think so, it's hard to tell. Stevie and Christian are getting that way. We seem to have ended up playing some sort of X Factor, Voice, Britain's Got Talent, fusion game. I was Nicole, and Tulisa, and Cheryl. I've just been Jedward. I was awesome, but they chose to save Ste's Wagner… Listen." Sam reached behind him and pushed the partition open further. Syed smiled, heart swelling with love and pride as he heard Christian singing.

"Who are they meant to be?" Sam frowned, as Christian and Rory harmonised tunefully.

"That's 'Not the Boy Next Door, isn't it?" Syed asked.

"Oh yeah! They're doing the Glee version. They'll never get the high bit…" Sam nodded appreciatively, as they did. "…Or maybe they will."

In the distance, in a broad Irish accent, Michael said,

"You remind me of a young Dolly Parton."

Sam and Syed laughed, and Sam began to fidget, eager to leave and join in with the others.

"Anyway. You're alright?"

Unsure from his tone if he meant generally, or driving, Syed said yes, as both applied.

"Good. You should be. He's a fantastic guy."

"Oh! I know."

"He's such a miserable pain in the arse when the pair of you start mangling each other's brains, so, for all our sakes, don't stress about shit that doesn't matter, don't be a twat, don't put up with him being a twat, do what you do, and have a fabulous future." Sam tutted, as if he found his own attempt at seriousness distasteful. With a flourish, he freed himself from the belt. Syed flinched as Sam leaned close and picked up a strand of black hair, pensively twisting it around. He shrank into his seat as Sam's breath brushed, sweet and warm, against his neck. Tucking the strand carefully and tidily behind Syed's ear, Sam murmured a line from the song that Christian and Rory had just been singing, deliberately misquoting it, "I can have my dreams, but I can't have you…" He sighed, and gazed longingly at Syed for a moment. "Shame. Ah well, different strokes."

Surprised at Sam's attempt to give him advice, and strangely touched and grateful, Syed struggled for a response, preferably one that entailed no physical contact, only managing to bleat lamely,

"Cheers."

"Welcome. You need to take the next left. It's a dirt track. Should be a sign that says 'Thunder Lake'. It's not much further."

"Where are we going again?"

"To my friend's ranch. Araminta and Kev. She's a right old bitch and he's a dickhead. You'll love them!"


	9. Chapter 9

"This isn't a good idea…" Syed closed his eyes, surrendering to the pleasure as Christian's lips pressed against his throat.

"It was you that grabbed me." Christian murmured between kisses. "And dragged me behind the giant, stuffed grizzly bear. So don't you go all coy on me now…" Syed felt the tug at his belt buckle and struggled half-heartedly.

"But someone might catch us." He protested feebly.

"Yeah." Christian growled. "That's half the fun. Oh bollocks."

The sound of high heels clipping across the tiled hall forced them apart and, as Syed frantically tucked his shirt back into his jeans, Christian said breezily,

"Hello Araminta! We were just admiring the taxidermy."

Araminta's beautifully shaped eyebrows rose, forming a small furrow in her smooth brow. She thoughtfully tucked a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear, and an impish smile curved her full red lips, lighting her beautiful, high cheek boned face.

"Of course." Despite years of living in America, her cut glass English remained unchanged. She tipped her head to the side, innocently opening her clear blue eyes wide. "Who wouldn't want to get a closer look?"

They all gazed at the ten foot high stuffed bear, standing with its paws outstretched, teeth bared, standing like a sentinel in the corner of the vast panelled hall. Syed felt a flush of embarrassed heat flare under his collar. Standing slightly behind Christian, he saw from the tense set of his shoulders that he was trying desperately not to laugh.

"The fucking thing gives me the creeps." With a very loud, unladylike chuckle, Araminta restored the equilibrium, and Christian was able to stop giving himself a hernia from trying to keep a straight face, and thankfully emitted a yelp of mirth.

"It is a bit gruesome." He agreed.

"I know! Kev won't get rid of it, or the rest of the dead stuff. At Christmas." She wrinkled her nose and lowered her voice conspiratorially, inviting them to feel her pain. "It wears a Santa's hat. Anyway!" She crossed her arms across her thin chest. "I was just looking for Sammy, if you wanted to carry on admiring it. Or there are some stoats doing amusing things in your bedroom. Stuffed ones, that is, at least I hope."

"They're all paying pool." Christian informed her, bemused by the talk of stoats. "We nipped out to…"

"Check out the bear!" She cut in. "Have you had enough to eat and drink?" She waved vaguely down the long corridor behind her, amber glass lights glowing softly on the walls, seeming to stretch to infinity. "The kitchen's down there somewhere. Help yourselves."

"Thank you! We've had loads." Syed smiled politely.

"You were going to get loads more." Christian mumbled, out of the corner of his mouth, wincing as Syed pinched him firmly on the rear.

Surreptitiously rubbing at the sore place on his bottom, Christian nodded in the direction of the games room. "We'll come with you. Sam might have stopped perving at Michael leaning over the pool table by now."

* * *

"Yesss!"

Michael's loud cry as the ball circled around and dropped into the pocket made Syed wince. Stepping out of the way of his victory dance and the waving cue, he winced again as Christian clapped, the force of the impact so loud that it made his teeth rattle.

"Such a jammy, jammy bastard! You going to let me whop your arse in the next game, Sy?"

Wondering if the ringing in his ears might be a permanent feature, Syed snorted.

"You wish. I will trounce you sir. Trounce you!" He looked towards the red leather chesterfield at the far end of the long room. Seated beneath a moose's head mounted on the wall, Sam sat with his pointed chin in his hands, staring at nothing, uncharacteristically silent and still. "Is he okay? I can't ever remember him not talking."

"He can sulk for England if he's a mind to." Christian stroked his chin thoughtfully. "He does look a bit teary though… Come on, just the sight of your gorgeous face will perk him right up."

Taking Syed's hand, pulling him, unwilling, behind him, Christian paused to slap Steve's buttock, destroying his shot. Laughing at the abuse hurled at him, he flopped down next to Sam and patted him on the back.

"What's up, face ache? Syed's worried about you."

Sam glanced gratefully at Syed and sunk further into the cushions, emanating a wave of piteous misery.

"It's that fucking Gustav."

"Gustav?" Christian frowned. "Yours and Ste's ex? I thought he moved to Mallorca."

"He did. He's been over for a while, so Steve suggested he flat sit for us while we're away." Sam sniffed and folded his arms.

"Erm, and that's annoying how? He's quite sexy, in a distinguished, silver fox way." Christian leant behind Sam and tapped the side of his forehead, making a face at Syed.

"I rang home and he's got his boyfriend with him. Cal." Sam spat the name with venom. "Ghastly little twink. I bet he's got his foul paws in everything." He jabbed his finger at Steve, who was cheerfully downing a large glass of red wine, watching as their host, Kev, finished lining up the pool balls. "She's no sodding use. Thinks I'm overreacting. He knows that little shit fancies him. Daresay the feelings mutual."

At a loss to what to say, Syed offered, "Aw. Never mind." in what he hoped was a sympathetic way. He balked at the venomous stare Sam aimed at him, expecting to see red lasers fire out, and for his skin to sizzle as the death stare reduced him to a pile of crumbling ash.

"I'll go and…" Syed shifted from foot to foot, waving towards the others, aware that his presence was no longer required.

Christian winked at him, putting a protective arm around Sam's thin shoulders.

"Yes. You go and. I'll sort this twat out.

"That's really kind."

Syed beamed at Kev, who shook his head dismissively.

"Not at all. Mutually beneficial. You've got some great ideas" Tall, tanned, stylish and balding, Kev flashed perfect white teeth and fished in the pocket of his expensively cut black trousers. "Give me a call when you're ready." He handed Syed a business card. "Can I get you another drink?"

Syed demurred, feeling awash with orange juice, wondering if he could remember where the toilets were.

"I'm good, thanks."

"Well, help yourself to anything. Looks like I'm wanted. This is turning into a bit of a needle match! My wife will win. She always does." Kev grabbed his cue, and as he passed by, Syed inhaled a waft of his aftershave, relishing the smell of success, daring to allow himself the smallest hope that it could, one day, be in his grasp. Buzzing and buoyant, he wanted to tell Christian his news, but he saw that he was still deep in conversation with a disconsolate Sam, so wandered away in search of a bathroom.

On his return, the volume in the games room had ramped up to an unbearable level. Seeking a little quiet, before going back to fulfil his threat of soundly beating Christian at pool. He strolled through the open doors, thinking he might take a wander in the gardens.

"Hello... Oh sorry."

Rory held up his hand to stop Syed from retreating.

"Yes. I will. No. Okay. Take care." He sighed, switching off his mobile and placing it carefully on the wooden table. He smiled wryly at Syed. "I think I liked it better when we had no signal."

Behind Rory on the verandah, across a field where horses grazed ghostly in the twilight, the sun sank on the horizon, stretching fingers of gold. Cicadas chittered in the bushes, soft rustles of night creatures beginning to emerge competed with the raucous hum of merriment coming from deep within the ranch house. Syed dragged back a wooden chair and seated himself, relishing the peace.

"This place is huge." He said. "I swear it's taken me about an hour to find my way back from the bathroom. Difficult call?"

"Isla. Fred's mother. Giving me earache about her future. Exam choices. Universities. Mapping out her life until she's eighty eight." Rory yawned, seeming as if the conversation had sapped him of life. "You'll have all that to look forward to. Though hopefully Amira…" He paused, waiting for Syed's sign that he had remembered the name correctly. "…Hopefully she won't be so neurotic about it."

"Hmm." On the point of saying that she would probably be a nightmare, Syed stopped, a sudden jab of loyalty and gratitude silencing his words. "I'm lucky she lets us both be so involved, really. After the way I messed her about."

"Ah, but I'm sure that was confusion and not malice." Rory peered at his watch. "What worries me is that Isla has probably stayed up to chew my ear off. She can get herself in a state."

"Does Fred know what she wants to do?" Syed asked.

"Forensic Archaeology. Paleopathology. Isla wants her to do Theology." Rory flicked at the mobile with his fingernail. "She's worried she'll end up like me." The corner of his mouth lifted, dark brown eyes creasing with amusement.

"Awful." Syed grinned.

"I know. What does Yasmin want to be when she grows up?"

"A unicorn."

"Excellent choice! I wish I'd been able to enjoy Fred more when she was that age, I was too worried about being crap"

"That's a familiar feeling. Will you have any more?"

"If Michael wants to, yes. He'd be a great dad. Better than me. You and Christian?"

"I hope so. When we're settled." Worried he may have given away too much, painfully aware that Christian would be crushed by another disappointment, Syed added. "It's not something we've actually discussed properly, so…"

"One day." Understanding perfectly, Rory deftly changed the subject. "Are they still all being macho and competitive? I'm surprised Michael's still in there. Taxidermy disturbs him. Bad memories involving a stuffed crow."

The realisation that Michael had new memories, ones that didn't involve him, caused Syed to suffer an unreasonable, proprietary, twist of indignation.

"Does he? What happened?"

"He threw one at someone's head. I'd dumped him. He should have thrown it at mine, knocked some sense into me. Fool, eh?"

"I know." Syed recalled all the times he had pushed Christian away, when all he had wanted was to surrender everything to him. "Got several of those tee shirts."

Rory flicked his lighter, tipping the glass jar on the table and lighting the candle within.

"Aren't we silly? I've got some news for him." He licked at his thumb, hot from the flame. "He's not going to like it."

His mother's genes rose in Syed, curiously wanting to find out what it could be. He heard Christian's voice nagging at him in his head, telling him it was none of his business, but Zainab won.

"Oh dear, why not?"

"I got an email asking me to go to the Middle East to look at some manuscripts. It's going to be fascinating, but dodgy. He'll most likely insist on coming with me and we'll get in all sorts of trouble. Hey ho…" He stood wearily and smoothed the front of his tweed jacket. "Better go and find him."

"Your Knight in shining armour. I've got some news for mine, too."

Rory raised an eyebrow.

"Good?"

"Potentially." Syed dismissed the nagging drag of caution, dispelling the lack of self-confidence that had stalked him of late like an angry black dog, and his eyes glowed bright in the candlelight. "Potentially awesome."

"


	10. Chapter 10

Syed rested his fingers on the silver latch of the Winnebago door, and studied them, frowning. Lifting them up, one by one, he looked at Christian and whispered,

"What if they're at it?"

"At it?" Christian laughed. "We'd hear. I bet Michael's a screamer, like you."

"I am so not!" Insulted, Syed stuck out his chin.

"You were last night…" The memory made Christian feel very pleased with himself, deciding it was a direct reflection of his accomplished prowess as a super stud. "Just open the damn door."

"Yeah, well, you'd upped your game. You open the damn door. It's you that wants me to wear the green tee shirt."

Barging him aside with his shoulder, Christian seized the handle.

"Upped something. You look gorgeous in it, and I want you to hurry up and get ready so you can tell me what's got you so excited. Apart from being married to me, of course…"

He flung the door open and gestured inside.

"…There. Not at it."

Stretched out on the sofa, his head on Rory's lap, Michael turned to face them, blue eyes watery, the lids puffy and red. He smiled weakly.

"Hello."

Rory twitched his open shirt, swiftly covering his bare chest, and glanced up from the book he was holding, raising it in salute.

"Morning."

"Oi oi! What are you reading? Is it filthy?" Christian bounded up the steps, Syed in his wake, and grinned broadly.

Turning the book over to study the cover, Rory shook his head, dark hair flopping over his glasses.

"Technically, no. The Adventures of Rodeo Rod and the Cowpokes. We seem to be finding it incredibly smutty, but we have dirty, dirty minds."

"Yes. Yes you do." Syed agreed and glanced at the tangle of sheets around Michael's feet. "Did you sleep in here?"

"We do. We did" Rory cupped Michael's jaw and gently stroked the stubble on his chin with his thumb. "Someone was intensely freaked out by a stuffed squirrel, even though it was delightfully attired in a fetching hat and winsomely holding a tiny acorn cup."

"It was evil." Michael said glumly.

Struck by Michael's unusual quietness, all his ebullience seemingly squashed, Syed touched his arm.

"You alright, buddy? I'm sure they wouldn't have minded if you'd put it out on the landing."

Michael dipped his head to kiss Rory's wrist.

"It might have knocked to get back in. Or gnawed its way back with its poor dead, horrible, pointy, teeth. No, we've been having WORDS. Or rather, I've been ranting like a crazy man about him putting himself in danger, while he says nothing. It's okay now, I'm going with him. Aren't I?"

"Yes dear." Rory nodded obediently. "If you stay nicely in the hotel room and don't think you're Indiana Jones."

"But I am. Got the whip and everything… Bollocks. This relationship love shit malarkey stinks sometimes." With a sudden movement, Michael pushed himself upright, grabbed hold of Rory, sending Rodeo Rod and his cowpokes flapping to the floor, and snogged him thoroughly. Breaking away, his equilibrium restored, he beamed at Christian and Syed.

"And how are you this fine morning? Bet you're knackered. We heard you when we passed your room." He winked, and Syed started to fiddle with the edge of one of the curtains, flustered and embarrassed.

"Aww!" Christian ruffled Syed's hair. "Don't. We had a brilliant time. You're just jealous. What are you up to today?"

"Dead jealous. Not jealous of poor Steve however, who we heard being shrieked at in a non-exciting unsexy way. Dead impressed at the inventiveness of Sam's insults though… A pus filled skank whore hell bitch wanker, apparently. Who knew? He always seemed so nice. We're taking one of Kev's many swanky vehicles and driving to a ghost town. Come with! Rory gets sick of me taking photographs of him, and you can help him carry my expensive cameras and mahoosive tripod."

Michael waited eagerly for an affirmative response, and Syed cleared his throat, on the point of agreeing, reluctant to disappoint.

"Syed wants me to ride to the lake with him." Christian cut in firmly.

"On a horse?" Rory asked.

"No. On a giraffe. Tit." Michael pulled a gormless face. "Actually, Kev seems so minted he probably does have a private zoo tucked away somewhere. Or did. Before he got everything stuffed. That'll be fun. Don't bruise your balls." He squinted through the window. "We'd better be off, before this fantastic light goes wrong. See you at dinner?"

Christian breathed in deeply, inhaling the mixed scents of pine, leather and horse sweat. He closed his eyes, swaying in the saddle, the sunlight dappling across his eyelids as it filtered through the leaves above him, the sound of hooves on the soft earth drumming a soothing, soporific rhythm.

"Hey." Syed spoke softly, thigh bumping against Christian's. "Are you asleep?"

"Nah." Slowly opening his eyes, Christian admired the way Syed held the reins lightly and easily, above the mane of the chestnut mare, his hands strong and elegant. "You look fabulous."

"Not bad yourself."

"You're on a horse, and you're not riding away from me this time." A memory made Christian's throat tighten briefly, a flash remembrance of drums, bright colours, and a dragging ache of misery.

"No. Never again... Mind you, I can't imagine we'll be on many horses in the future."

"Oh I don't know. Perhaps I'll go to work on one. Or Yasmin might want to join the pony club and I can go with her."

Syed laughed.

"Unicorn club…" A sliver of silver sparkled through the trees ahead of them. "Here's the lake!"

"Good. You can tell me this bloody news." Christian urged his horse into a trot, instantly wishing that he hadn't when he landed heavily onto the saddle. They cleared the wood, emerging onto a sandy strip than ran beside the wide water, a clear mirror reflecting greens and golds and the azure sky. He dismounted gingerly and rubbed his buttocks, grimacing. "Ow."

"You alright?" Syed swung his leg over his horse's neck and jumped to the ground.

"I will be." Christian grabbed Syed's waist, and pulled him close, turning him to face the view and resting his head against his, arm slung loosely across his neck. "So beautiful."

"Yes."

"Please tell me now."

Mouth curling impishly, Syed pretended he hadn't heard.

"Was that Jane on the phone this morning?"

"Yes. Tell me."

"How's your mum?"

"Intolerable. She says she's feeling much better and is talking about moving back to Miami. Tell me."

"You're kidding! After all that. What does Roger think?"

"God only knows. He'll go along with whatever. Jane says it's been pissing down constantly since they got back so she couldn't blame them. We'll see. It won't be for a while. Tell me."

"Do you think Sam and Steve are okay? Is it still about that bloke who's staying with them? I didn't think Sam cared about monogamy."

"Ah now, there's the thing. Steve and Gustav were very close once. I think that's the real issue. Sex is sex; it's the love malarkey that burns in your gut and rips you apart. Tell me."

"And poor Rory! Wanting to go and quietly to do his work and having Michael in tow."

"Like turning up at the library with a particularly randy, noisy peacock pecking at your trousers. I swear Syed, if you don't tell me right now; I'll chuck you in the water."

"Well…" Savouring the suspense, Syed counted to ten in his head, watching a bird skim down onto the lake, sending up an arc of rainbow droplets as it landed. "Kev has an import firm in the Midlands, and he's not happy with the management, so I was telling him some of my ideas, and he asked me to go in and troubleshoot, with an eye to taking it over and having full control. Flexible hours for child care, company car. Perks."

"Perks! Whoop! Oh Sy, that's fantastic! You and me baby, we're sorted." Sensing a change in Syed's posture, almost reading his mind, Christian gave him a little dig in the ribs. "And don't go thinking you'll fuck it up. Kev hasn't got cars, horses, this fantastic place, without being shrewd. He sees something in you. He has faith in you. I have faith in you. Please, please, have faith in yourself. Promise me?"

Syed turned and laid his cheek against Christian's chest, listening to the solid steady beat of his heart, and answered truthfully,

"I promise."


	11. Chapter 11

Christian's boot crunched into the dry earth as he stepped down from the porch. He leaned against the wooden pillar, folding his arms, patiently waiting for Syed to finish making his goodbyes to Kev. After much hand shaking, backslapping, and enthusiastic bonhomie, Syed broke away.

Looking into his bright eyes, Christian commented,

"You're like a dog with two dicks."

"You wish I had two dicks." Syed grinned. "I'd never get any peace."

"No you wouldn't. Perhaps we could get another one grafted on."

Syed grimaced. "From a dick donor?" Sam's dejected figure caught his attention, wilting, hunched and miserable, by the fence. Hiding behind massive sunglasses, he batted impatiently at the inquisitive nose of a bay horse, which was idly checking him for hidden carrots. Araminta stood by his side, head bent to his, making sympathetic noises.

"Speaking of dicks. Has Sam made up his mind if he's coming or going?"

Christian sighed. "Buggered if I know." He looked around him, at the Ranch house, the wide field, a cat sleepily stretched beneath a twisted tree, basking in the pale morning sunshine. "I wouldn't blame him for staying."

Kev joined them, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"He's not staying." He said firmly. "If he does, I'll come with you. Even if I have to rampant sex with Steve. How is he coping with Sam's histrionics?"

On cue, Steve strolled from the house, carrying all of their luggage, with as much ease as if it were candyfloss. Whistling cheerfully, he nodded as he passed.

"It's hit him hard." Syed said drily.

"Oh hush you." Christian scolded. "He loves the bones of him. I had a word. He doesn't seem that concerned. He said that there was no point trying to reason with her when she's behaving like a psycho hell bitch, and that she'll get over herself eventually."

Kev rolled his eyes. "Will that be when hell freezes over, and the bitch gets too cold?"

Syed yelped with laughter, cutting off quickly with embarrassment when he realised the response was a little too enthusiastic and obsequious, and that Christian was shooting him a withering glance.

Michael jumped energetically from the Winnebago, followed more sedately by Rory, who methodically used the steps as a way of illustrating that they were there for a reason. Michael stuck his tongue out at Rory, then waved, shouting,

"We're ready to roll this wagon!" He ran across and grabbed Kev in a hug. "Mate! So lovely to have met you! Thanks so much for your hospitality!"

Rory held out his hand. "What he said. Thank you. You've been very kind."

"Where's your beautiful wife?" Michael asked. "Oh there she is, with the limp queen of tragedy…"

Propelling Sam forcibly with a firm, elegant hand on his shoulder, Araminta smiled.

"It's been an absolute pleasure meeting you all. Don't be strangers. Syed, Christian, I'm sure we'll meet again now Syed and Kev are in cahoots." She went around each one, kissing them on both cheeks. "Michael, I'll definitely take you up on that offer of Fashion Week, and Rory, you dear man, can't wait to see behind the scenes at the museum. Ste!" She stood on tiptoes, whispering something into Steve's ear before she cupped his face. "And my lovely Sam! I'll See you very soon, my angel…"

Sam shuffled into her embrace and began to cry theatrically.

"Min! Love you so much."

"Love you more, twatty bollocks. Now, go with these handsome gentlemen and get on the fucking bus."

* * *

"Yes. Yes. I will…" Michael put the mobile away from his mouth and mimed an exaggerated yawn. "Yes. You emailed me it. I know. Meeting. I'll be there. I'm well aware of how important it is. Did you sort out the boys for my shoot? Oh God, not him. He's a knob... Get me Philippe. He's hot… Whatever… Yes. I do my darling… I will… Sorry Jenny babe, the signal's going…" He blinked at the blank screen. "Oh look, I was lying, but it's true!" He tossed the mobile onto the table. "We're incommunicado. Rory, Jenny says hi."

Rory glanced up from Rodeo Rod and said, "Hi Jenny."

Stretched out next to Syed on Sam and Steve's bed, warm and content, Christian asked drowsily, "Is that Jenny your agent? She sounds like your mum, ordering you about."

Syed and Michael glanced at each other and laughed.

"You haven't met Michael's mother, have you?" Syed lifted Christian's arm from his shoulder and sat up.

"Ha Ha! I don't think she's ever told me what to do in my whole life…" Michael opened the fridge and took out three cans of beer. "Do you think those two are alright up there? It's awfully quiet." He hurled a can towards Christian, who caught it deftly.

Snapping back the ring pull, Christian rolled onto his side.

"Steve's probably quite happily driving along, while Sam tries to freeze him with a permafrost glare. Do they know where we're going? Where are we going?"

"An area of outstanding natural beauty, that isn't me!" The smooth running of the Winnebago changed, and it lurched a little, making Michael grab onto Rory's leg for support. The ride became bumpy as the wheels travelled over uneven ground. "We've reached the turn off… What shall we do? I think it's about another couple of hour's drive from here. Watch a film? Have an orgy?"

"Strip poker. Syed can adjudicate. In the nude." Christian suggested.

"Rory will have you and me butt naked in no time. Have you seen his poker face?" Michael slumped beside his partner and twitched the book from his grasp. "Inscrutable. You've read that at least five times now."

Pushing his glasses up, Rory rubbed at his temple, attempting to knead away a faint niggling ache. "It has subtle nuances you can only appreciate on further study. We could have some quiet time for inner contemplation?" He proposed the notion plaintively, and with little hope.

"We'll be quiet when we're dead." Michael tapped him on the head with the book, and he winced at the increase in pain. Clapping his hands, making Rory wince again, Michael declared, "I could cook something! Who's hungry? Shall I ask them two? I'm scared…"

He bounded to the front of the Winnebago, disappearing from sight. Syed smiled kindly at Rory.

"You're a saint."

"Aw. I'm really not. Who can resist all that wondrous energy?"

"Nobody, in a confined space, unfortunately. Here…" Christian grabbed Syed's hand and they clambered from the bed. "…Have a rest. We can barricade you in, form a human shield.

"No..." Rory hesitated. "… He'll only find me." He grinned, and touched his forehead, squinting as a white light began to scintillate in his left eye. "Actually, I probably do need to lie down. Think I'm getting a migraine."

"Brrr, the atmosphere's glacial in there! I'm surprised a polar bear didn't float by on an ice floe." Michael reappeared, rubbing at his biceps. "I managed a bit of a chat with Ste about cars, while Sam glared at us like a malevolent goblin." He saw the closed doors to the sleeping area and frowned. "Where's Rory?"

"He's feeling a bit rough mate." Christian answered.

"What?" Michael's face fell. "Why didn't the silly twat tell me? I'll make him better."

"I don't think…" Christian silenced Syed's protestation with a warning touch to the nape of his neck, and they sat in silence as Michael barged his way in, murmuring words of love, shutting the doors behind him.

"I suspect it might be Rory that makes Michael better." Christian observed.

"Oh, I think it's mutual." Syed disagreed, curling his fingers around Christian's. "And then there were two."

"The best two. What shall we do? Small orgy? Strip Ludo?"

Syed chuckled. "Tempting as both of those sound, I can't rid myself of the terrifying possibility that Sam might strop in at any moment." He shuddered. "He'd probably try and join in." He stood and inspected the narrow shelf above the sofa, flicking through the selection of books and DVDs. "What have we got? Oh!" Beaming, he grabbed the edge of a case and slid it out, waggling it for Christian to see.

"Stand By Me?"

Christian nodded.

"Stand by you, you gorgeous piece of heaven? Always."


	12. Chapter 12

Crouched on his haunches, Michael unzipped the side pocket of his camera bag. Taking out a lens, he removed the cap and squinted at the glass, studying it with professional scrutiny. Satisfied, he replaced it carefully and flexed his shoulders.

"It's quite warm, isn't it? I might take off my shirt."

"Plan." Sam drawled, crossing one thin leg over the other and shifting in the fold up chair. "You should always take your shirt off."

Michael raised his eyebrows at Syed.

"Someone's feeling perkier."

"Nothing wrong with me." Sam snapped. He gestured tetchily towards the Winnebago, pointing at Rory, who paced slowly in a small circle, rubbing at his forehead, seemingly absorbed in the dust at his feet. "Not sure about your mate, though. Is that all an act all that nutty, absent minded professor thing? Seems a bit fake to me. Stereotypical"

Despite the sunlight on his face, Syed felt the temperature drop. Seeing the set of Michael's jaw, a muscle twitching visibly, Syed lifted his own chair and moved it closer to his friend, an unconscious gesture of support.

"Fuck you Sam." Michael said, his voice low and controlled. "There is nothing fake about him. If you knew all the shit he's gone through. Yeah, he puts up barriers to help him through. Don't we all? Maybe not, in your case, maybe you really are a venomous, waspish little shit. Stereotype much? I'm going to take some pictures, before I say a lot of stuff I probably won't regret. Syed?"

"Yes." Syed stood quickly, shaking his head at Sam. "Sort it out Sam. Stop being a dick." He lifted Michael's camera bag and handed it to him.

"Cheers. Shall we get Christian?"

"Nah. He's talking to Steve. Rory?"

They strolled away from the Winnebago, heading towards the ravine's edge.

"Ror's solving a medieval conundrum. He wouldn't thank us for wrenching him from that. I think I need to break something."

"Better get you away from Sam's neck then. Cool, it'll be like cross country at school…" Syed broke into a run, laughing over his shoulder. "…Except this time I'll win!"

The metal clasp on the strap clinked as Michael lowered his camera, the small sound amplified in the empty stillness. Syed narrowed his eyes, surveying the vast red mountainous rocks in the distance, stark and jagged against the blue sky. A large bird whirled above their heads. As the brown fingertip wing points moved through the air, Syed imagined he could feel their passing as a soft touch upon his cheeks. He glanced down, stepping back quickly as a wave of dizziness unsettled him, his motion sending rivulets of little stones tumbling down the steep slope.

"Bit different form Walford." He remarked, and wondered why the claustrophobic square had sprung to mind in the midst of so much wild beauty.

Michael laughed. "Oh I don't know. There's probably a pub on the corner, it's just that the corner is a very long way away." He raised his camera again. "It's magnificent." He turned, pointing the lens towards Syed.

Syed attempted to cover his face, ducking away.

"Surely you've got enough photos of me by now?" He groaned. "There's a bloody great big view going on!"

"I will never tire of that fabulous face. You know I think you would have been a better model than me…"

"…If I wasn't such a short arse. Yeah, yeah. Bastard."

"Did I say that? How rude! Probably best you didn't. The money's shit when you start out, and I think the waiting around would have driven you bat shit crazy. I know you're not a man that likes to hang about. Oh, go on. Let me take your picture. I'll put you in my sexybition!" Michael employed the most charming smile in his repertoire, winsomely tilting his head to the side and making his blue eyes smoulder.

Giving in with a sigh, Syed pushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Do your worst. I'm not doing knitting pattern though. Or catalogue pant man."

"Buzzkill. You never would do that one."

"No. So there was no point you saving up your pocket money to bribe me with. Are you done yet?"

"Nearly." Michael swiped through the shots on the display screen. "Look over there." He ordered.

Syed stared intently towards the horizon, putting one hand on his hip and pointing with the other.

"Ha ha! Knitting pattern! You star. Look at me. Look at the camera. Look down. Awesome. Think about Christian in the nud. Wow! Done. Honestly dude, you're fitter than ever."

"Shut up."

Michael packed away his camera.

"Seriously. All those other photographs I took, you seemed sad somehow, even when you were smiling. Now you exude joy."

Wrinkling his nose, Syed sniffed in disbelief.

"Eh? Exude joy? You nutter."

"Honestly. Joy. Exuding. All over the place." Michael stretched his arms wide. "This place! Breathtaking."

"Yes." Syed agreed, yet a sudden desire for rain soaked pavements, the smell of car fumes, the bustle of people, a warm fire, Christian and he curled up on their sofa watching trash television, washed over him with a sweet pang of homesickness.

"Think I'll try and get Rory to move here." Michael cut into Syed's reverie. "I'll build him a hut. A palatial hut. With a coffee machine. Maybe not, he'd wither away without mouldy old stuff to look at. Shit, I was really crap to Sam. I should go back and apologise."

"Why? He started it." Syed curled his top lip, and thought of the things he would have liked to say if Sam had started on Christian.

"Yeah, but what if he's having a breakdown?"

"Unlikely." Syed slapped Michael on the back. "But I'm starving, and we can't get stuck out in the wilderness. I need a motel room to ravish my husband."

"Filthy beast!"

They trudged happily beside each other, reminiscing, discussing their respective plans for the future, mocking each other, laughing with the ease and companionship of old friends, until they reached the place where the Winnebago had been parked.

"Whose salamander? I don't remember anyone having a salamander… Hello." Michael stopped suddenly.

"Axolotl." Syed corrected. "What is it?"

"It should be here. Have we gone the wrong way?"

Frowning, Syed looked behind him. "I don't think so. Maybe they've driven off somewhere?"

"What? To the handy little shop? There is nowhere. The buggers."

"This is probably their idea of a joke. I'll ring Christian." Syed fumbled for his phone. "No I won't. No signal. We must have come too far, missed them. I recognise that rock though."

"Ha! Has it got distinguishing features?"

"Actually, yes. If you were more observant, O'Riordan, you would notice it resembles Prince Charles."

"Prince Charles? The fresh air's raddled your brain matey." Michael stepped closer to the rock, studying it intently. "I see what you mean… Those knobbly bits are his ears."

Smugly, Syed folded his arms. "Told you. This is weird. The chairs are over there… What's that?"

Michael followed his gaze. "Smoke. They're having a bonfire. Perhaps they're cooking sausages."

Cold with dread, Syed gripped Michael's wrist, his nails digging into the flesh. He saw the black plume snaking upwards, a red flash of flame against silver.

"No. That's the Winnebago. It's on fire."


	13. Chapter 13

Time slowed down. Syed desperately wanted to run, yet the ground seemed to be holding him, his feet leaden weights, all energy evaporated. Michael shot past him in a blur, and he found a small scrap of power, deep within his core, just enough to propel himself forward, chasing in Michael's wake.

The dust rose in a cloud around them as they thundered towards the Winnebago. Syed felt his heart strain against his chest, his breath dry and rasping in his throat, a voice in his head, shrill and alien, but that he knew to be his own, repeatedly shrieking no.

Through the swirling smoke, he caught a glimpse of a broad back, the familiarity of it made his eyes flood with tears of relief. Muscles clenching, Christian raised a fire extinguisher and aimed, a spray of foam shooting out in an arc, suffocating the last of the flames. He staggered as Syed cannoned into him, twisting around to catch him in an embrace.

"Steady on Sy!" He laughed croakily. "Where's the fire?"

"Christian! What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Your face!"

Christian's right eye was beginning to close, the lids red and swollen. A dark angry bruise spread above his temple. He touched it briefly, hiding his wince of pain. "It's nothing..."

Gasping in desperation, Michael appeared from behind the overturned van.

"Where's Rory? I can't find Rory. Is he inside? Shit." Shaking off Christian's attempts to hold him back, Michael climbed onto the wreckage, cursing at the heat of the metal, wrenching futilely at the twisted door handle.

Christian and Syed clambered up to help, managing to lever the door open, letting it slam down, the broken hinges emitting a screech that set their teeth on edge. Michael jumped into the dark interior, desperately throwing things out of his way, pots, cups, clothes, all hurled behind him in his frenzied search, while he constantly yelled Rory's name.

"Michael! Shut the fuck up!" Christian bellowed. "Listen!"

"So much noise…" A pile of cushions began to move, and Rory's head appeared, hair tousled, his eyes wide and the darkest brown. He blinked blindly. "Has the shouting stopped?"

"Oh my God, Rory." Michael grabbed him, pressing kisses on his mouth.

"Mmff… It's very nice to see you too. Does anyone know where my glasses are?"

"Glasses, glasses." Michael pushed his hands beneath Rory's armpits and dragged him upright, freeing him from the sofa. As he did so, there was the faintest crack, and an ominous tinkling. "Ah. I think I found them."

"Guys…" Syed tugged nervously at the waistband of Christian's jeans. "We should get out of here."

Above the hissing of steam and the creaking of metal, Syed thought he detected another noise. A low keening wail, like a child in pain, a sound that wrenched at his soul. "Where's Sam and Steve?" He asked.

"Shit." Christian slid down the side of the Winnebago and raced to the front.

Sam crouched over Steve's body, arms tight across his own chest, slowly rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry, so sorry."

"Sam, Sam, stop it. It's alright." Syed crouched beside him and Steve feebly attempted a cheery thumbs up, using the arm that wasn't bent and twisted behind him.

"I'm fine." He lied.

"No you're not." Christian chided angrily. "You're far from it."

Leading a stumbling Rory, Michael took in the scene and shook his head.

"What the fuckity fuck happened? We went for a nice walk and returned to absolute carnage."

"There was a lot of shouting." Rory offered helpfully. "I went for a nap and woke up under a pile of soft furnishings. You trod on my glasses."

"Yes, thank you, witness for the prosecution. This mayhem…" Michael waved his hand across the sorry scene before him. "…What is this?"

Christian sighed and thrust his hands into his pockets.

"Sam and Ste had a blazing row. Sam got upset and said he was leaving. He drove off. We ran after him. He stalled and we caught him up. He tried to drive away again and Ste stood in the way to stop him. Sam lost control, hit a rock and flipped the van over. The end. Ta dah!"

"You forgot something." Steve's deep voice corrected. "Christian pushed me out of the way. Saved me life. Cheers mate."

"Welcome mate. I might have broken your arm for you though. Apologies."

"No worries. Think my ankles screwed too. Better than being mashed to a pulp by my mentalist husband, mind. Sam, my dearest heart, you're a total arsehole." Steve patted Sam's knee.

"I'm so…"

Steve cut Sam off abruptly.

"Yes I know, you soppy tart. I can smell burning."

"There was a bit of a fire. I put it out." Christian passed the act off as if it were as tiresome as getting rid of a tiny spider.

"Thank fuck you did! Rory could have died." Michael shuddered at the possibility.

"The extinguisher was in the cab…" Syed frowned. "…Did you go in and get it?" He thought of his brother, the terrible scars on his back that would haunt him forever, and felt bile rise in his gullet.

"It had fallen out." Christian lied, surreptitiously touching a raw patch on his arm. "Anyway. We're all still here, the question is, what do we do now? Ste needs a doctor."

"Rory's the wrong sort..." Michael scratched his head. "Maybe we can right the Winnebago, fix it up."

"Does anyone actually know anything about engines?" Rory asked doubtfully. "I know you like to pretend you do, though I'm not sure owning some designer overalls and muttering about big ends and crankshafts really qualifies."

"Me. A bit." Steve said.

"So we're screwed. I never thought I'd ever wish Phil Mitchell was around. We'll have to ring for help." Christian reached for his phone and frowned. "No signal. Sy?"

"Same. Anyone?"

"Mine ran out of battery."

Michael rolled his eyes at Rory. "Then why didn't you charge it?"

"Because I couldn't find the charger. Yours?"

"No signal."

"Mine's fucked, and Sam threw his at me somewhere back there…" Steve stifled a groan, sweat beading on his forehead. "I'll be fine, honestly."

"You look like shit, I won't lie." Christian saw the colour draining from Steve's face. He bit his lower lip, sharply sucking in a breath with concern. "We'll have to retrace our route, find the road."

"That'll take hours!" Sam snivelled.

"Would it be better to go higher? Over that way. Might get a signal."

"Good plan, my darling man!" Michael kissed Rory's cheek. "Let's go!"

"Um, I'm not sure I'll be much use, being a bit visually impaired at the minute."

"No, no!" Sam cried. "Rory can't go! I can't cope on my own, what if something happens?"

"It's okay Sam." Surprised by his sudden popularity, Rory shuffled forwards. "I'll stay with you."

"I can't go without you." Michael's excitement at the heroic rescue mission evaporated as reality took hold.

"You can."

"I really can't."

"This is all very beautiful and touching." Christian snapped. "But it's getting us nowhere." He held out his hand to Syed. "Come on you. Let's climb every mountain."


End file.
